Tryst
by Need2Scream
Summary: "Ironhide, I have found a great deal many things this morning," Optimus said rubbing his optics. "Not all of them I can unsee." Rating to be safe. Oneshot.


Optimus knocked lightly on the security room door. Red Alert was _supposed_ to be off this orn, but there was always a better chance of finding him in the security room than his quarters. Or anywhere else for that matter.

The door slid open two seconds later and Beachcomber greeted at polite, recharge heavy attention. "Good morning, Prime. Can I help you?" he asked with his Kalisian drawl more pronounced. Behind him, Hound gave the Prime a tired salute but the old scout didn't get up.

Blinking once in surprise, Optimus returned Beachcomber's greeting. "At ease, mechs. I wasn't expecting to see you. Red Alert actually took his orn off? Did Ratchet drag him out of here?" he asked, a trace of amusement in his voice. He found it hard to believe he hadn't heard that battle of wills down in his office.

Beachcomber shook his head, "No sir, we were scheduled and he didn't change it."

"Premeditated," Hound grumbled.

Tucking his amusement away for a later laugh, Optimus asked, "Have you seen Prowl this morning? I couldn't find him in his quarters or office." That was a bit unusual, but early as it was, Prowl might have slipped into one of the sparring rooms for meditation or some warmups to loosen himself up for the orn. Given the SIC hadn't answered his comm. Optimus was betting the Praxian was meditating.

Beachcomber and Hound reflexively looked at the flickering screens. Hound canted his head to the side and was silent a moment longer before he answered. "No Prime, I don't recall seeing him anywhere. But, I did hear that Jazz got back sometime during fourth shift. He might've cornered him." Hound and Beachcomber both snorted a laugh at that.

Optimus nodded his thanks and the two soldiers saluted once more. As the Prime left the office Beachcomber returned to his chair asking Hound if he'd ever been to Epsilon Four. A smile curved Optimus' mouth as he heard a lively answer from the old scout. Scouts hated monitor duty, but Prowl always found a way to make it at least tolerable for them.

Once again knocking softly, Optimus was ready to wait a few breems for Jazz to get to the door. He didn't like waking the saboteur, but the Centari Tetrax base in Gygax had finally found a time to meet with Prowl. Given the time difference it could be another kel before they could synch up their schedules. On a hostile border, the Autobots didn't have the luxury of waiting for the stars to align again.

A breem later he heard the locking mechanism click. Angling his body to block as much of the hall light as he could he gave Jazz a warm smile. "Welcome back, Jazz. I'm sorry to wake you so soon, but have you seen Prowl?"

Leaning against the doorframe with optics squinted against the light and slightly downcast Jazz nodded. His bare torso didn't have any new welds or patches and Optimus felt part of his spark relax. Jazz would never hesitate to do his job, but it still left a bitter taste in the Prime's mouth when he thought about the methods they sometimes had to use to stay half a step ahead of Megatron. "Mornin', Prime. I got you. He's right here." Pushing off the door with a yawn he ducked back into the darkness of his quarters. "Prowler, Prime needs you." His voice was a bit lower and husky from recharge but undeniably Jazz. Optimus was looking forward to hearing that loud voice in the halls again. He'd been gone too long this time.

Stepping into the room so he wouldn't loom in the doorway he blinked twice before his optics adjusted to the dark. Jazz's quarters were the same size as everyone else's, but the amount of things dumped in it made it seem smaller. Armor bars, weapons—he could only assume were safely deactivated—music chips, cans of polish, polishing cloths, a partially disassembled first aid kit, and datpads that most likely contained highly sensitive material were scattered haphazardly all over the floor. Optimus didn't move any further into the room because while Jazz's small frame could navigate the mess, Optimus' feet were several sizes bigger.

By far the most intriguing part of the room was Jazz's berth where Prowl was laying on his front with his wings draping over the sides and sheets tangled around his waist. Jazz ran his knuckles down the Praxian's naked spinal relay and the sensitive juncture between wings and his back. Prowl made a low sound. "Up," Jazz said. "So I can go back to recharge." Optimus glanced surreptitiously at the bars of armor on the floor. Some of the mess was Jazz's size, but the others he'd dismissed as more of the mess were curved for a different frame. Raising an optic ridge at his TIC he didn't say anything further. Jazz gave him a rakish grin.

Prowl's wings rose with supreme effort and folded against his back. Dark blue optics opened and Prowl made another sound as his systems finally started warming up to waking parameters. Pushing himself up, he slid out of the berth. Jazz's clawed fingers slid over the end of his wing. Flicking his wing out of Jazz's hand, he used it to swat the saboteur hard enough to knock him over. A muffled 'oomph' underscored Prowl's polite, "Good morning, Prime. You have need of me?" His voice was low and rough and Jazz sat up chancing another wing stroke.

Thrown off just a touch by his normally stoic second in command standing in front of him naked, clearly waking from an interrupted tryst, Optimus was a second slower in responding than he usually was. "Centari Tetrax has contacted us. They'll be available in a joor." He caught Jazz's amused grin. A clawed hand stroked Prowl's thigh and the Praxian gave Jazz a pointed glare. Jazz laughed a low husky sound that had probably charmed its fair share of mechs to his berth. Optimus just never expected one of those charmed mechs to be his SIC.

"Understood, Prime. I will be in command shortly," Prowl answered as if they were standing in his office and not Jazz's quarters while said saboteur rested his head against Prowl's hip still stroking his clawed fingers over Prowl's exoform.

"Do you need me, too?" a recharge heavy voice murmured. Red Alert sat up, torso naked and sheets pushed aside enough to show a sleek equally naked thigh. Optimus glanced at the floor again. There, over by the desk was a bar with Red Alert's distinctive red on it. Both of Optimus' optic ridges raised and he looked at his TIC again. Jazz shrugged a shoulder and laughed.

Prowl turned his body enough to look behind him. "No, they're restructuring their tactical department." Flexing his wings, Prowl asked. "Anything else, Prime?"

"Ah, no. I will, ah, leave you to get ready. Jazz…Red Alert." He didn't waste any more time opening the door and stepping into the hallway when Jazz twisted around and pushed Red Alert down against the berth. Closing the door, he stared at the dull metal for several seconds before blinking and making his way back to command.

"Find your wayward second?" Ironhide rumbled as Optimus walked into command. It was quiet in the command deck with how early it was. Which suited him just fine at the moment.

"Ironhide, I found a great deal many things this morning," Optimus said sitting down and rubbing his optics.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** I've had a couple people say they'd like to see a trine with Red Alert, Prowl, and Jazz; and what do you know, I want to see that too! So I wrote this little one shot. Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting!


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